


Don't Leave Me Tongue Tied

by kubotits



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bleach Kink Meme, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:19:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kubotits/pseuds/kubotits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo and Rukia try to have phone sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Leave Me Tongue Tied

**Author's Note:**

> Originally anon fill to a prompt on the [Bleach Kink Meme](http://bleachkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/363.html?thread=619#cmt619). I never planned to crosspost but I thought I might as well now that both the BKM and I have kind of fallen into obscurity. Only a few editing tweaks have been made to this (although it's still unbeta'd lol), so feel free to read it on the original post (which includes a friendly follow up fill!). 
> 
> (SPOILER: this was written before Rukia's Ban Kai was revealed in the manga, so it's been Jossed/dated. Shrug.)

For a couple that spent so much time apart, Ichigo and Rukia were not good at long-distance. What with Ichigo's college courses, not to mention the piles of homework that came with them, his part-time job at Unagiya, and on top of Rukia's duties as vice-captain, her Ban Kai training for her Captain Proficiency test, they barely had enough time to stay in contact with—let alone see—each other. There were few overlapping free moments between the two; sometimes weeks passed without so much as texting (which they did nearly non-stop) and a few sparsely placed phone calls. It got incredibly lonely, the ache for each other something wholly unbearable. So, after two weeks without being able to meet, when Ichigo suggested something new, Rukia leapt at the chance—if not a bit reluctantly at first.

She'd never even _used_ a webcam before, let alone for something like _this_.

 **chappii_chan:** Now that I am longed in, how do I turn on the camera?  
**m0rtalc0il:** it's logged in  
**chappii_chan:** Are you sure?  
**m0rtalc0il:** yes i'm sure  
**m0rtalc0il:** why did you name yourself that

_**chappii_chan** is typing._

Ichigo groaned. She was the slowest typist in the world. Slower than his _dad_.

 **chappii_chan:** I could ask you the same question.  
**chappii_chan:** Idiot.

He decided to let it slide. What did she know? His username was awesome.

 **m0rtalc0il:** you don't have to use proper grammar you're talking to me  
**m0rtalc0il:** just press video call  
**chappii_chan:** I did.

There was a beat before his own face, backed by his bare dorm room walls, bloomed on the screen, his scowl staring back at him.

 **mortal_coil:** wait ok now it's working

"Can you hear me?" he asked aloud.

_**chappii_chan** is—_

"Typing," he finished for the infuriating video chat log in a low mutter. "I know. She's _always typing_." It was one of the few moments in their relationship where the age-gap was painfully obvious.

 **m0rtalc0il:** i'm saying really romantic stuff here you don't want to miss it  
**chappii_chan:** It's not working.  
**m0rtalc0il:** turn your volume up

"Oh!" she exclaimed, crackled and garbled over his mediocre speakers.

"Good, I can hear you now. You can hear me, right?"

"Yes," she replied. "And I can see you now! Hi!"

"But I still can't see you," he sighed. "Turn on your camera."

"I thought it was on."

"Clearly, it's not."

"Don't get testy with me," she snapped.

"I thought that was the point of this little exercise," he retorted, eyebrows raising suggestively in an unexpected bout of boldness.

If Ichigo could ever hear a blush, this would be the time. "Sh-shut up."

He smirked, but conceded that as technologically inept as she was, he was never going to get to see her at this rate. "Oh, fuck it," he surrendered, throwing his hands up. "I'll just call you, okay?" He tried not to look disappointed that he wasn't able to see her, but she could see him (a painful parallel of times past), giving her a small smile.

Reluctantly, she responded, "Okay." She was disappointed too.

Once dialed and answered, starting out was awkward. Neither of them really knew what they were doing. Though they were adept and used to each other’s bodies and what they liked after years of exploring each other, this was...too new.

"Uh," began Rukia. "How are we supposed to do start this. 'Phone sex,' I mean."

"I think one of us is supposed to ask what the other is wearing," answered Ichigo, shifting in his seat on the bed awkwardly.

"Okay then. What are you wearing," she asked without inflection. 

Not the sexiest delivery, but Ichigo took it. “T-shirt and sweats.”

“Alluring,” she deadpanned.

Ichigo rolled his eyes, muttering, “I'm taking off the shirt, one second. He set down his phone before she could respond. Once the offending garment was removed, and Ichigo had retrieved his phone, he asked in a low, husky voice, “So...what are you wearing?”

“No, not yet,” she replied girlishly, biting her lip. “I want you naked first.”

“O-oh...okay,” he stammered, quickly shimmying out of his pants and boxer briefs. “Now you. What are you wearing?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” she retorted coyly.

Ichigo groaned. “Rukia, don't tease.”

She grinned, tucking a finger behind her lips. “I thought you liked it when I teased?”

He did, he couldn't refute her. “What, you want me to beg?”

“Maybe,” she giggled. Quite the coquette.

He should have expected as much, this was his girlfriend after all. They hadn't properly seen each other for two weeks and she still played games with him. Nevertheless, he swallowed his pride. “Please.”

This time, her answer was prompt: “The white lacy matching underwear set you bought me for our anniversary.”

Oh. He could just picture her, sprawled on the bed, chest heaving as she ran her own hands over the soft lace bra and panties.

“Are you doing it? Are you touching yourself?” she asked with buoyant curiosity.

Ichigo shook his head in disbelief. “You're kinda killing the mood, you know.”

“I'm the one doing all the work here, Mr. Sweats And A T-shirt,” she scoffed.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “I'm...taking off your bra?”

Was that a _question_? Rukia rolled her eyes, biting her tongue to keep from scolding him for being uncertain, but complied. “It's off,” she whispered.

“I'm, uh, touching your...yeah. And kissing you.”

 _It's confirmed, then,_ conceded Rukia, half-heartedly groping herself. _Ichigo indeed cannot talk dirty to save his life._

When she had told Rangiku about their long-distance relationship woes and their idea to spice it up, she had sympathized, with a friendly pat at her shoulder, and a somewhat-condescending, “Good luck with that.”

She had had a point.

Not that this came as a shock to Rukia, on the contrary, she had more or less suspected this would happen, and had therefore prepared. By researching such activities.

Blowing upward, she made the little tendril of hair between her eyes flutter. Someone had to get this show on the road. “My nipples are hard under your big hands as you squeeze them. Your lips reach the peaked tip of one, taking it between your teeth and pulling until it drags out of your mouth. _Ohh_ , you know just what I like.”

Ichigo was mute. Dumbfounded. And could only reach down to take hold of his hard cock.

“Then your hands travel down, and I'm already wet.” Her hands followed her directions, rubbing expertly over herself. “I'm already ready for you.” She moaned softly, trying her best to convince herself her hands were his, inserting. “And your...your fingers fit so nicely in me, as I tighten around them.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” was his only input, stroking himself.

“I'm kissing your neck, licking your pulse point. I'm eager for you, pushing around your fingers. But I want more. I want you. I want your cock.” Ichigo tried his best not to choke. But this was nothing more than just masturbating if she couldn't hear his voice, so she begged, “Say something.”

"Rukia, you're surprisingly good at this," muttered Ichigo, pausing in his pumping, idly thumbing the head of his cock to spread the precum leaking out.

"And you're unsurprisingly bad at this," she chortled, continuing her slow circles over the wet heat of her core.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded indignantly.

"Ichigo, you are just as virginal as the day I met you. I don't think it matters how hard you fuck me, or how many times your hands have run down the curves of my body, squeezing my tits, tracing circles with your fingers round my nipples. Licking my clit. Putting your fingers in my mouth.” She demonstrated the last example, by cradling the phone between her chin and shoulder, audibly sucking on two fingers, pulling them fast from her mouth so he'd hear the smacking of her lips. Ichigo almost dropped his phone at the mental image. His dick was _throbbing_ in his hand—then her voice took a dip, and he could almost feel her whispered breath against his ear: “I'm always gonna make you blush.”

Ichigo groaned low, a fire under his skin. Forget simply blushing, his entire body was flushed.

“How did you even _get_ so good?” he asked, adding hastily, “Do I want to know?”

"Lisa lent me porn from her shop," she admitted smugly, but gasped when she smoothed her spit-wet fingers over her clitoris, the others still working in and out of her.

"And you read it? Did you...uh, you know."

The implication bloomed a pink tinge at Rukia's cheeks. She murmured her confession, “Yes.”

" _Shit_." His pumping quickened. "Did you think of me?"

Breathlessly: "Yes."

Ichigo stopped. “Fuck it,” he said.

“What?”

He threw his clothes back on, quite the feat while still holding the phone to his ear. “I'm coming to see you. I don't even care. I need to see you.” His head got stuck in his shirt, but when he finally emerged, trying his hardest to pull it over his midriff, he added with an excited, breath of a voice, “And you are going to show me _exactly_ what you did to yourself while thinking of me.”

Oh god, if that wasn't the pinnacle of her boyfriend's dirty talk, Rukia didn't know what was. _That_ was what did it for her. “Fuck, Ichigo. If you keep talking like that, I'm gonna be finished before you get here.”

“Fine with me. Then we'll just have to start over,” he murmured suggestively. “When you're extra-sensitive. And _dripping_ for me.” Rukia's breath hitched in her throat.

He grabbed his keys and bolted out the door. Rukia couldn't stop herself as she listened to his heavy breathing running her way.

**Author's Note:**

> Side-note headcanon stuff: It took Ichigo several days to work up the courage to buy Rukia underwear (which was Mizuiro's idea, but it'll be a cold day in hell when Ichigo goes bra shopping with Mizuiro). The first few, he didn't even go into the store because he was so embarrassed. When he finally made his selection (white because that was a color that suited her best) (although he did consider finding a set that matched her eyes, but he thought that would be too much) and went to purchase it, he got so flushed and so flustered that he, a little too loudly, announced, “They're not for me!” and ran away once he got his credit card back—leaving behind the bra and panties in his haste. So of course he had to be chased down the street by an employee.
> 
> This was not a story he told Rukia.
> 
>  
> 
> [Read the reply fill here!](http://bleachkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/363.html?thread=35947#cmt35947)


End file.
